The Distant Threshold
My fingers were black with iron gall ink, the stains working their way into the whorls of my palms as I copied the third column of the *Ledger of Royal Expenditures*, a document so dense with debits and credits that the paper felt heavy, almost wet, in my hands. I was twelve years old, a page in the imperial archives, and I wanted to decode the "Silent Cipher" to prove my father’s innocence...
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